


Somewhere Beyond the Sea

by Edwardina



Category: Glee
Genre: Coda, Evan Evans - Freeform, Kum Week, M/M, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in Lima for Regionals, Kurt meets Sam's "twin," who seems to be abnormally interested in him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Beyond the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kum Week 2013, for the "S4 Kum" theme. Spoilers through 422.
> 
> Thanks to Cat for being open to a collaboration and inspiring me so much with her beautiful art. Also to my sunshine Kate for reading this through for me!

When Kurt walked into the food court and saw Blaine and Sam sitting by the Sbarro, he stopped in his tracks, hesitating. Did he really want a pretzel?

The moment Kurt had crossed state lines, his ex-boyfriend had been kind of clingy. Kurt wasn't generally opposed to being flirted with by a very cute boy, but things between him and Blaine still felt messy and confusing, especially after the wedding.

Did he miss Blaine? Sure, of course. And he wanted to be friends; absolutely, he did. Blaine was the person Kurt had been closest to in the world. And the part of him that sorely missed Blaine wanted to throw caution to the wind and just get back together with the guy. Give it another try. Make it stick. Because he loved Blaine. He always would. But there was doubt in his heart, too – enough to keep him from succumbing to the temptation. He wasn't sure he could ever trust that Blaine wouldn't take his pain out on him all over again the exact same way the next time he felt insecure. And Kurt didn't see how they could ever feel secure in each other again.

If Blaine had been alone, Kurt would have turned around on the spot and left – just ducked into the nearest American Eagle Outfitters and peered out from behind its posters of tanned models playing volleyball in the sun till Blaine got up and left.

But he was sitting with Sam, who had a cup from Smoothie King in hand and was just sitting there listening to Blaine talk at length, nodding, lips pursed. So Kurt decided to bite the bullet, get it over with, and exchange some pleasantries. He put on his best casual posture and strolled on up to their table.

"Hi, boys."

Blaine's face radiated shocked delight. "Kurt! Hi!"

"Hi, you," said Kurt, getting a hug that Blaine clearly realized was way too friendly halfway in, making it peter out into an awkward one-armed thing as Blaine backed away. "Hi, Sam."

"Hey, Kurt," responded Sam. His uninterested monotone just served to highlight Blaine's excited puppy aura.

"What are you two up to?" Kurt asked.

"Oh! Just... hanging out," said Blaine, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Smoothie run," said Sam.

"Yeah, y'know, grabbing some smoothies, getting in some bro time," added Blaine.

"Oh, right! I forget you two are such good buddies, now," said Kurt with a smile. He really didn't tend to think about the ways in which Blaine's life had changed since they'd broken up, but he did remember that he and Sam had run for student office together and that Blaine had not been all that enthused about having a former stripper for a running mate. "My, how times have changed. I still remember the shoving match you two got into last year over body rolls. Now look at you, thick as thieves."

Sam's lips folded inwards. He was looking at Blaine kind of funny, but Kurt couldn't read the expression. It looked a little like he was trying not to laugh.

"Ancient history," Blaine assured him quickly. "Body rolls have their place in a show choir's arsenal, just like any other dance move. Hey, since you're here, why don't you have a seat? Join us."

"Oh, no," demurred Kurt. "I'm hitting up the pretzel place, then the department store. If I'm hanging around for Regionals, I need to grab a pair of socks that aren't light blue."

"Just stay a few minutes, at least," coaxed Blaine. "We're actually talking about Regionals! I know you're curious about our set list!"

Kurt couldn't actually deny that. Visiting the choir room during glee rehearsal, exercising his pipes, and watching New Directions energetically tackle Stevie Wonder had really made him miss the old days of show choir competitions, when nothing seemed more important or life-defining than Sectionals, Regionals, and Nationals. 

Damning his inability to resist temptation, he relented and took a seat with the two, but just as he sat, Sam stood up abruptly.

"Gotta pee. Be right back."

He darted away at high speed through the sea of food court dining tables, leaving Kurt suddenly totally alone with his ex.

"Oh," he uttered in surprise. "Okay, then."

"Don't mind him," Blaine said, dark brows furrowing as he shook his head. "Brittany dumped him yesterday, so he's been a little preoccupied."

"Aw, that's too bad," said Kurt. He could already envision the victorious krumping Santana was going to do around the loft whenever that little tidbit of news got back to her. 

"Yeah. But never mind that," Blaine said hastily. "Let's talk Regionals. Get this: The theme is 'dreams.'"

"Dreams!" Kurt echoed. The mere word evoked a wash of nostalgia, like looking at a yearbook. "Why do the regional competitions always seem to be way schmaltzier than the others?"

"I'm not sure, but Mr. Schue very nearly had us doing 'You Make My Dreams Come True,' amongst other oldies. An old number, and nothing after the 80s, Kurt!"

"Wow! He must be gunning for Teacher of the Year again!"

"I mean, luckily, he came to his senses and realized what a terrible, dated set that would make, so now we're working on some fresher choices, and it looks like we may be doing a song by one Miss Marley Rose. An original song. Can you believe it? It's sort of a gamble against our main competition, this group called the Hoosierdaddies. Apparently they have a powerhouse vocalist. But then again, this is Regionals, and Regionals is all about giving the judges that inspirational schmaltz. What better than an original song? It lets them know how heartfelt we are as a group. And I personally think it's a step up from the original songs you all did two years ago, but don't tell anyone I told you that."

"'Loser Like Me' is a timeless classic," Kurt tutted lightly, just out of loyalty to his friends.

"No, Kurt. No," Blaine disagreed, and was singing the praises of Marley's singer-songwriter tunes when Sam reappeared at the table, hands on his hips and a pair of thick-framed glasses on his nose.

"Blaine! What a surprise!" Sam said, his voice lighter and more musical than usual. Kurt blinked up at him as he held out his hand to Blaine, smiling openly.

With a short sigh, Blaine took it and gave it a cooperative pump. "Evan. You're back."

"What? I nevah left. Who's your friend?" Sam asked brightly. "Wait. Don't tell me. Could this possibly be Kurt?"

"Yes, Evan," said Blaine, with some barely-masked impatience. "This is Kurt. Kurt, this... this is Evan. He's Sam's, uh. Twin brother."

"Kurt," said Sam, giving him a big, winning grin, "it's brilliant to finally meet you."

He offered his hand to Kurt. Not sure what was even going on, Kurt took it slowly, staring up at Sam in those nerdy spectacles.

Actually, if the boy standing in front of him hadn't been wearing the exact same plaid button-down as Sam, Kurt might have doubted it was him. Clearly it was, but something about him was palpably different, too. The shaggy blond locks that had been hanging into Sam's eyes just a minute before were dampened and swept back, except for a stubborn loose tendril that fell across his forehead.

"Sam and Blaine talk about you so much, it's like I've known you forevah," said Sam earnestly. He enclosed Kurt's hand in both of his warmly, just holding it, and looked at him so directly that Kurt could only stare back.

"Really," he managed.

"Oh, yeah, of course. But neithah of them mentioned how ravishing you ah."

"Okay, Evan, that's – more than enough. Just sit down, please," said Blaine.

"Don't mind if I do," said Sam, oblivious to the hard stare Kurt was turning on Blaine. He let Kurt's hand go after giving it a parting squeeze and pulled up his chair, dropping into it. "So, Kurt, Sam told me you live in New York. That must be awesome! Tell me all about it."

"Uh... what kind of accent is that supposed to be, exactly?" Kurt responded, bewildered, as Sam steepled his fingers. He knew it was Sam sitting in front of him, doing one of his ridiculous impressions of something, but he was just coming across so differently that Kurt didn't even know how to respond. His body language had changed radically, in that he looked like he actually had some control over his limbs. He wasn't slouching. His mumble had perked up. And he was looking at Kurt like he was the most fascinating thing in the world, whereas usually Sam looked like he wasn't paying much attention to anything.

Sam just cocked his head at the question, one side of his mouth pulling in a quizzical smile.

"Accent? To me, you have an accent! A lovely one, too," he added. "I love America. So many accents."

"Against my better judgment, I have always wondered," said Blaine. "Where is it you're supposed to be from, Evan?"

Sam looked legitimately confused at why Blaine was asking. "Ovahseas, Blaine."

"I see," said Blaine flatly at that non-answer. "Well, do me a favor. When you see Sam, tell him I'm really sorry he got dumped, but I'm really gonna need him to get his head in the game, okay? Regionals is only a couple days away –"

"Regionals?" scoffed Sam. "Listen, you're gonna bore Kurt with all this high school stuff. It's all about college. I know I can't wait till I start hearing back from all the ivy league universities I applied to. It's gonna be such a hard decision, picking out where to go. I have so many options, you know? I just can't wait. Kurt, I heah you go to NYADA. Such a prestigious institution! You must be insanely talented on top of handsome."

From behind his heavily-framed lens, Sam gave Kurt a little wink.

"Sam!" Blaine blurted indignantly, as Kurt just stared in shock.

"Sam?" Sam sat up straighter and craned in his seat to peer over his shoulder. "Where?"

"I think we'd all like to know the answer to that question," Kurt said.

Maniacally, Sam hopped up again. "Oh, you want Sam? I'll go find him. Don't you go anywheah!"

He scuttled off again, and when his back was turned and he was hurrying across the food court, Kurt could see without any illogical shadow of a doubt that it was definitely Sam jogging towards the restrooms in his laceless Converse sneakers, with his broad shoulders leading the charge.

Kurt was completely stunned. After months of living in the same house as Sam and hearing him mutter things as George W. Bush and Christopher Walken whenever he passed by the guest room, he thought he'd heard all the goofy voices Sam could offer. Sometimes Sam couldn't even do them without cracking himself up. But that hadn't been just some parroted line from a movie.

"Sorry about that," Blaine muttered. He looked embarrassed, even though it was Sam who was acting crazy.

"What the hell was that?" Kurt demanded.

"Ugh. Okay, see... after that gun went off at school a few weeks ago, a lot of us were really freaked out, and Sam started doing this thing where he was acting like a different person, an exchange student who had only just come to McKinley and hadn't been there for the whole terrifying ordeal. At first I thought it was just a bit he was doing to make us laugh, but by the end of the day it became Evan."

"Evan," Kurt repeated.

"Evan Evans," Blaine confirmed, nodding as Kurt emitted a disbelieving snort at the name. "He's Sam's 'twin,' but instead of being some kind of evil doppelgänger, he's like, the opposite – this weird manifestation of Sam's insecurities. Nothing fazes him. He's smarter and smoother than Sam, hence the glasses and weird, unplacable pseudo-British accent."

"British? It sounds like Steve Irwin on tranquilizers," said Kurt. "Didn't Sam suddenly sprouting a second personality strike you as – I don't know, disturbing?"

"Mainly, it was annoying," said Blaine, talking fast and keeping an eye trained for their friend. "He was constantly ducking in and out of glee, changing from Sam to Evan and back again. He did the Evan act in varying degrees for, like, a week! We all went along with it because we were all so out-of-sorts. Sam plays the clown so much, anyway, and we needed that kind of distraction, and it was a fun goof for a couple of days. It got old, but none of us had the heart to tell him to stop. Mr. Schue had to. What's disturbing is that Sam hasn't done the Evan thing since then... till now. I knew Sam was bummed about Brittany, but he seemed to be dealing okay till you showed up. Now, poof: Evan."

"So... what, is this 'Evan' personality gay?" asked Kurt suspiciously.

"Gay? I don't think so. I mean, it's just Sam."

"Well, I'm pretty sure he was flirting with me."

"He's just kind of a charmer. I've been around him since his inception and he's never hit on me, so."

"Maybe you're just not his type," teased Kurt. "But I do believe he called me both 'handsome' and 'ravishing.'"

"Huh." Blaine tapped at his smoothie cup thoughtfully.

"Guys!"

The two looked up to see Sam with his long arms spread wide, walking towards them. The glasses were gone, and his hair was wildly mussed. It almost looked like he had stuck his head under one of the hot air dryers in the bathroom, but it was still damp even though it was flopping over his forehead once again.

"Guess who I just saw! _Evan_!" Sam said. "I didn't even know he was here! Crazy coincidence, huh?"

"Yeah, really crazy," confirmed Blaine dryly.

"He said you guys were wondering if I'd fallen in!"

Kurt smiled as Sam plopped himself down. He wondered where Sam had stashed the nerd goggles.

"So, Evan's quite the dashing figure," he said teasingly.

"Dashing?" repeated Sam, like that had never occurred to him before. "Really?"

"He does quite a lot of dashing," Blaine said.

Kurt could barely suppress a laugh. "Well, it was interesting to meet him, so to speak. But I've gotta dash, too. I love Finn, but there's just no way I'm borrowing his socks for the next three days."

"I think you should stick to the light blue ones. I like 'em," said Blaine, in just enough of a flirty tone that Kurt felt himself inwardly pulling away from his ex. Were they ever going to act normal around each other again? Could they, even?

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't," he said, both cheerily and evasively, and eased his chair back so he could stand before Blaine felt the need to pull his chair out for him, or something. "Enjoy the rest of your bro time, you two."

"Thanks! Good luck shopping, and... you don't need luck. You're sock-shopping. And you're Kurt. Never mind," said Blaine laughingly.

"See ya, dude," said Sam, fiddling with his smoothie straw. As he strolled away, Kurt cast a glance over his shoulder and saw him staring at the table and sighing, a shadow of gloom on his face. Blaine gave him a gentle rap on the shoulder, and Sam slouched again.

Later that evening, Kurt was hanging out in the kitchen with Carole. They were both on their MacBooks, relaxing and drinking tea as they sat at the kitchen table and waited on their pretzels.

Kurt had never gotten a pretzel at the food court, so instead, he'd come home, done a little Googling, and put together his own from scratch. It was much more work than just buying one at the food court, but in a way, it was nice and comforting to work in his parents' kitchen again. They had more of everything than he and Rachel did. And knowing his dad had a clean bill of health made being back in Lima feel homey, instead of a massive sign that something was wrong. Lima was heavy with nostalgia; old places, old pains. New faces filled McKinley and there was a new Super Target by the highway. Kurt really did feel like his life belonged in New York, now, but Carole was good company. As excited as she seemed to be for a new phase in her life, she obviously missed Finn being in the house, so he was happy to fill that son-shaped void for her.

He was sitting there, one knee crossed over the other, checking up on NYADA blogs and Facebook chatting with Rachel when he got a friend request.

It was from Evan Evans.

Kurt clicked on his name without thinking better of it, landing on his profile.

Evan Evans had three friends: Blaine, Tina, and Sam – or rather, himself. Almost all the activity on his wall was from three weeks prior, and had only gone on for a few days. That must have been when Sam was really workshopping the Evan bit, Kurt thought – forming this personality. Kurt could see from the posts on his wall that Brittany had been Evan Evans' Facebook friend three weeks ago, too. But now she wasn't on the tiny list of friends stationed on the left side of the wall. Perhaps Brittany had dumped Sam's fake twin along with Sam.

The "About" was short. _Lives in Lima, Ohio._ There was one photo, and it was a very serious-looking selfie; Sam was stroking his chin with his brow furrowed thoughtfully, wearing those glasses, and he had an orange sweater draped over his shoulders, its sleeves wrapped together in a loose twist. A light sweater around one's shoulders was a well-defined, classically preppy look, but sans khakis and pastel polo, Sam looked less like he was ready to hit Cape Cod and more like a really dorky kid who was just trying not to lose his sweater.

Amongst his favorite music, Evan Evans listed Bobby Darin, Barry Manilow, The Righteous Brothers, Otis Redding, Jay-Z, Buddy Holly, and "smooth jazz." The only books he'd listed were _War and Peace_ and "biographies about Abraham Lincoln," and the only TV show "news."

His "Likes" were also a short list. Evan Evans liked "being an identical twin," "my twin brother Sam's art," "NPR," "foreign films," "politics," "Socrates," "travel," and "Hollywood Hootenanny: A Tribute To Dance On Film, directed by Artie Abrams."

The latest post on his wall was from Tina Cohen-Chang: _You're starting to look like the person Catfishing Ryder._

There were several responses to this.

 _Evan would never fish he's enlightened and against animal cruelty_ , Brittany had replied.

 _I don't think either Sam or Evan would do that_ , Blaine added. Kurt could just hear Blaine saying that in his authoritative yet diplomatic New Rachel and Finally, Finally The Leader Of New Directions voice.

 _Frankly Sam was incredibly out of line with what he said to Ryder today, and pretending to be another person on Facebook doesn't make him look good_ , Tina commented.

 _Maybe its u and ur distracting us by dressing like u starred in sucker punch detective jamie chung_ , Brittany had replied.

 _I wasn't even in the room when Catfish's phone rang_ , Tina said.

 _Neither was evan_ , said Brittany.

Evan – well, Sam – had not responded to the post, but a week and a half before that, Blaine had posted on Evan's wall.

_You left your sweater in my car, buddy. ;) I'll get it to Sam, and I'm sure he'll get it back to you._

_What an oversight! Thanks my good man!_ Evan Evans had replied.

Before that, Evan's wall had been much more active. He'd posted various things every day: _Scrabble anyone?_ and _Has anyone seen Sam? Tell him to call me!_ and _Just saw Lord and Lady Tubbington in flagrante. Love really is all around!_ (To this, Brittany had responded, _No!! lord tubbington is not allowed to make fondue without supervision!_ and Tina, _Gross_.)

Kurt scrolled through the rest of Evan's wall. Evan constantly wondered about Sam's whereabouts, and a few times, Sam had replied to himself: _On my way bro!_ or _I was just there! Must have just missed you!_ Tina had commented a few times, mainly in reply to things Blaine had said. Brittany had talked to Sam-as-Evan the most, feeding the crazy with comments like _wow. you're so smart Evan_ , so the fact that she wasn't among his listed friends anymore was glaring.

In all, the sparse page proved that Sam had been pretty dedicated to the twin bit there for a week or so, but Kurt could see that Blaine was right – Evan hadn't been around in a couple of weeks.

But Kurt had inspired a repeat performance, according to Blaine. Kurt wasn't sure he wanted to encourage the resurgence of a split personality. Even if it was only a joke, this fake twin had appeared because everyone had been frightened by something legitimately scary. It had been Sam's way of dealing with things outside of his control. If he was falling back on an elaborate coping mechanism like this now, that couldn't be a good sign.

Kurt felt a stir of sympathy.

Rather than friend Sam's Evan profile in return, he decided to message it.

 _Hey there. I know we don't know each other as well as you and Blaine_ , he typed, feeling a tad stupid but willing to play along after all his undignified acting exercises at NYADA, _but if you need anyone to talk to, you can message me._

The timer went off, so Kurt hopped up to check on his pretzels, peeking into the hot oven. Almost done. They were still a bit blond.

"Carole, do you remember if Sam ever wore glasses?" he found himself wondering, tucking his hand into an oven mitt. "Or maybe contacts?"

"Sam?" Carole asked. She had her own pair of bifocals perched on her nose as she peered at her computer screen.

"Yes, Sam. You remember Sam, right? Blond guy, pouty lips, lived in the guest room for five months?"

"Of course I remember Sam, honey," said Carole patiently. "I just haven't seen him in a while, or heard about him since he moved back in with his family. But no, I don't remember him ever wearing glasses. Why?"

"I saw him at the mall earlier and he was wearing a pair," said Kurt, hovering at the oven.

"Really? I thought he was a big jock."

"Kind of. He played football and did a stint on the painfully uncool synchronized swimming team."

"Right, right! He had so many early morning practices, he'd be gone before your father and I were up," she said with a smile. "Well, how is he doing these days? His family, and all that? Did he look good?"

"Not sure," Kurt said lightly. "I just said a quick hello. And he had this pair of glasses... I almost didn't recognize him when he had them on. He just looked like someone else totally! I mean, he has those distinct features, but..."

"I know what you mean," said Carole. "He definitely was a very good-looking boy. Well, I bet he looks just as cute in glasses!"

"Oh, he does," Kurt acknowledged. He felt awkward standing there discussing Sam's looks without even meaning to, so he went ahead and cracked the oven open. "These are just about ready!"

"I can smell them, and they smell so yummy!" Carole enthused as he took the pan out. "Oh, Kurt, I miss your nervous baking."

"Maybe I'm the one who should be sending you and Dad care packages," Kurt joked.

He happily occupied himself with his spatula, prepping four more pretzels for the oven. The fresh, hot pretzels received a light brushing with melted better, and Kurt sprinkled half of them with kosher salt and the other half with cinnamon and sugar.

As he stood there, a memory arose in him of standing in that exact same spot, putting together a cheese platter for he and Blaine to nosh on while watching _Being Bobby Brown_. Sam had come in from the garage and galumphed through the kitchen, sweaty from working out or something. He'd grabbed his water bottle out of the fridge, taken an eager swig, watched Kurt arranging the goat gouda and camembert, and asked in an aghast voice, "Is that all cheese?"

"And fruit," Kurt had replied. "Want some grapes?"

Sam had ventured forward, and Kurt plucked a cluster of freshly-rinsed red grapes from the tray and put it in his hand.

With Sam standing next to him, so sweaty and still panting from whatever he'd been up to, Kurt had gotten quite a whiff of him. Of course, at the time, he'd been distracted by a lot of things, but he could still smell that fresh, sweaty Old Spice scent filling up his personal space.

Boyfriend or no, he always had to try not to pay too much attention to the realities of living with two other teenage boys, one of whom felt free to strip his shirt off around Kurt if he was getting too sweaty or Kurt asked if he had anything he wanted tossed into the laundry. By that point, Finn wasn't really a problem, and Kurt had his own life that was jam-packed, but despite his full schedule, he had managed to wind up hanging around Sam here or there. They were sort of like two ships in the night, just passing each other by most of the time. But when they weren't sailing past each other on the way to a date or duet, Sam didn't ever seem to care if he was standing too close or think twice about squeezing his shoulder to say hello or goodbye.

Elbow jostling Kurt's, Sam had thanked him, shoved a grape into his mouth, then asked, "Any more texts from that dude?"

Right – Sam had known that a guy had been texting Kurt, sending him complimentary and silly messages. Sam had sat next to him in glee and peered over his shoulder in curiosity as to what had Kurt giggling like a moron. He didn't say anything judgmental; he seemed to think the texts were really funny. He'd hovered near Kurt in his weirdly close way, maybe hoping to peep the latest from the screen of Kurt's iPhone. Knowing Sam, he probably thought Chandler was just sending him pick up lines so they could laugh at them together as bros. He had a particular ingenuous innocence, for a teenage boy who had secretly worked as a stripper.

"My phone's upstairs," Kurt told him. "But last time he texted, he asked me, 'How'd you get through security? 'Cause you're the bomb.'"

Sam had given a courtesy laugh, then said eagerly, "Text back, 'Are you from Tennessee? 'Cause you're the only ten I see.'"

"That pick-up line could not be more exclusively tailored to you," Kurt had told him. "Now scram, would you? Blaine's upstairs."

"Amscraying," Sam replied. "Thanks for the grapes!"

He'd hustled back out with his water bottle and fruit, maybe intent on setting some kind of world record for sit-ups or jumping jacks. After that, Kurt had climbed up the stairs with his cheese plate and found Blaine looking at his phone. Blaine hadn't found Chandler's texts funny in the least.

When Kurt sat at his computer again, a salted pretzel on his plate, he had a new Facebook message. It was from Evan Evans.

_I'd love to talk to you some more. Why not in person? Let's meet for coffee tomorrow. My treat. Lima Bean, 5?_

Unsettled, Kurt thought for a minute, pulling a piece of pretzel from its doughy knot.

Maybe Sam really did need someone to talk to – but goodness, Blaine was right. Defying reality, Evan somehow managed to be a charmer. Kurt had no idea how, especially since it was just Sam behind the glasses, playing at being brainier. Although confident, Sam had sort of a scattered, over-eager approach to making his affections known to girls, at least as far as Kurt had witnessed when Sam had lived there and had been endlessly pursuing Mercedes. He remembered Sam sitting right where he was sitting now, painting a figurine for her, confident it would be the thing that would make her finally break up with her truly gigantic boyfriend. Instead, he had wound up crying through a Whitney Houston ballad.

But hey, maybe he'd taken a lesson or two from Blaine, or watched a marathon of _The Pickup Artist_ and had stored away some kind of impression. Maybe the thing to do with Sam right now was to just respond in kind.

So Kurt typed back, _See you then!_

By the time he was rolling up to the Lima Bean in his dad's SUV, Kurt had pieced together a fractured picture of what had happened with Brittany and Sam. He wasn't proud of calling Tina to get the dirt, but she'd been happy to share it.

Sam had been dumped via text message, even though he was apparently standing right in front of Brittany and also the whole glee club at the time, which seemed really bitchy for Brittany. Then she'd divaed out and demanded all the solos; Tina said her suspiciously high S.A.T. scores had created a monster, but that it wasn't the first breakdown Brittany had staged that year, either. The kid who had played Danny in the world's most uncomfortable production of _Grease_ had dropped out of New Directions, too. It looked like Regionals was going the way of Sectionals for New Directions, and Kurt didn't know whether Sam could save the competition this time. Last year, the sudden infusion of Sam's energy and real desire to win had spearheaded their Sectionals victory. This year, it was a different team with different circumstances; Sam's senior year in New Directions was a time of major change, even with Finn helping out.

Senior year was already a bittersweet time, rife enough with pressures and anxieties about the future. Kurt could remember well the feeling of inevitable doom that had gripped him several times throughout his senior year at McKinley. As weird as pretending one had a twin was, Kurt also had, that very week, packed only socks that were light blue, tapped his nose at particular times past each hour, and compulsively arranged everything around him to try and ease the feelings of dread, panic, and loss of control. He did want to make sure Sam wasn't about to actually have a breakdown, or something, but if Sam wanted to pretend to have a twin because it made him feel better about everything going on in his life, who was Kurt to stop him?

He folded his sunnies and put them in his glove compartment, then grasped the little paper sack he'd put leftover pretzels in and climbed out of the car. He knew Sam probably wouldn't want a pretzel, but he was definitely never eating the biscotti here again.

To his surprise, Sam was already inside, standing at the stirring station with two coffee cups in in front of him. He was wearing those thick glasses and had the orange sweater from his Facebook picture tied around his neck over a sky blue t-shirt that was light at the top and darker at the bottom in a gradient effect. He was stirring one of the cups attentively.

Well, Kurt didn't know what he was expecting, but there was Sam Evans, Evan Evans guise layered on.

He approached with some caution, watching Sam throw away the stir-stick and carefully put the lid back on his coffee. It took Sam several seconds to spot Kurt standing nearby.

"Kurt!" he sang out with a big smile, striding over with his hand stretching out eagerly. Kurt started to lift his hand so he could give Sam's hand a shake, but instead, Sam caught Kurt's right hand, deft, turned it over at the wrist smoothly, and lifted it to his mouth. He dropped a kiss right atop Kurt's knuckles with his head gently bowed like some kind of Disney prince.

"Um," Kurt blurted, heat rushing into his face. "Sam..."

Sam's brow arched as he looked at Kurt, warm mouth still unnervingly close to Kurt's fingers as he said in his possibly-Australian accent, "I'm Evan. Sam's at home with his head under a pillow."

"Oh," Kurt managed, hand clutched gently in Evan's. Sam's. His hand was in Sam's, and Sam had just kissed his hand like they were at a ball. It didn't fit at all with how Sam had ever acted towards him, and he didn't even know why he was blushing so furiously or why he was just standing there letting Sam hold his hand and eye him. He could still feel the warm shape of the kiss against his skin. After an oddly heavy moment, Sam smiled and allowed him his hand back.

"Got here a tad early," he continued, sounding at ease, "so I ordered a medium drip for you. Hope that's all right!"

"I – okay. Thanks."

Sam handed him the all too familiar white paper cup. It had his name written on the side. Sam's said _Evan_.

"If you don't like it, it'd be my pleasure to get you whatever you desire."

"No, this is... just what I like," said Kurt, flummoxed at how totally casual Sam could make a grandiose statement like that, and how cute. "Shall we grab a seat?"

"Actually, let's have a – you know – a constitutional," said Sam, with the air of one who had been practicing a vocabulary word but wasn't totally convinced of how to use it. He gestured towards the door, coffee in one hand. "It's a lovely day."

"Wow," said Kurt. "Okay... so we're taking a walk."

"Indeed," said Sam, and pushed the door open for him, smiling at Kurt in a weirdly knowing way as he held the door for him. He then pushed his glasses up his nose, ambling along at Kurt's side as they turned to the right, walking into afternoon sunshine. Kurt didn't know if they were going anywhere specific; personally, he was just wandering down the sidewalk in confusion. How was he supposed to even handle this? As normally as possible, he supposed.

"Pretzel?" he offered, holding up the bag. "I know you – I mean, I know Sam doesn't eat bready things, but –"

"But I do, yeah!" said Sam, and fished one out. It was one of the cinnamon and sugar-sprinkled ones Kurt had figured would go well with coffee. "I don't have to worry about my body being my meal ticket. Thanks so much! What a beautiful pretzel! So thoughtful of you, Kurt. I'm so glad you said you'd meet me again. I was wondering if you were seeing anyone."

At that, Kurt rounded the bend from _The Twilight Zone_ all the way into incredulous laughter.

"Were you, now?"

"Your Facebook didn't say," Sam persisted, sounding serious. "So? Are you? Do you have a boyfriend stashed away at NYADA?"

"No," chortled Kurt, thinking of Adam briefly but dismissing him as easily as he had at Mr. Schuester's ill-fated wedding.

"No? You're not just saying that for my benefit, are you?"

"Well, I don't see how it would benefit you."

"So you're not dating anybody?"

"Why?" Kurt asked, smiling. "You want to be exclusive?"

Looking momentarily taken aback, Sam stuffed his pretzel into his mouth, gnawed off a chewy bite, then declared with one round cheek full, "Well, definitely if you're not already all emotionally entangled with some other guy! You know? Like, not secretly still in love with... anybody?"

"Oh my, this is all moving so fast," Kurt kidded.

"So you don't want to move too fast!" Sam exclaimed, his accent slipping away almost entirely. "That's good! I mean, I respect that! But here's the thing – isn't being impulsive so romantic? And don't you think you can have feelings for somebody that you think you've totally buried, but you know they're still there, and so real, and you can't resist the possibility of them, and if they asked you, you just know you'd drop your whole entire life to be with them –"

"I'm sorry, but who am I talking to right now?" Kurt interrupted, stopping short in front of a dry cleaner's window.

Sam seemed to catch himself. "... Evan. Obviously."

"Okay. Evan. Are you..." The idea seemed so out of nowhere that the words were actually hard to form, and Kurt felt like a total moron even trying. "Actually... interested in me, or something?"

"You're, like, supah interesting, Kurt," Sam replied.

"I mean, _interested_. Romantically. Because..."

He hesitated, unsure, because even though he was talking to Sam, it still somehow managed to feel like he was talking to a boy who had asked him on a coffee date and shutting him down before either of them had even taken a sip of their coffee. That was ridiculous, but somehow it felt sensitive and weird, and Sam stared at him from behind those geeky glasses as if he didn't understand what Kurt was even saying.

"I'm not sure I should be dating anyone right now," he went on, defaulting to the old "It's Not You, It's Me" tune.

"So this isn't a date we're on, you and me?"

"Oh, boy. I have no clue what is happening, here," Kurt responded honestly.

"No? You don't want to be with someone?" asked Sam. He seemed extremely invested in getting an answer that Kurt didn't know how to give him. He pressed, "What about just a hook-up?"

"To be honest, I'm... still kinda struggling with the fact that I dated someone who cheated on me," Kurt answered. "Long-distance relationships are hard and put such a strain on things. They really take their toll. I've already learned that the hard way. I've done the hook-up-with-your-ex thing and the rebound thing, and trust me, wanting to feel like you have something you miss back or just wanting to move on aren't bad things. But you have to be careful, or you'll hurt the person you're seeing because you're not over that other person yet. Not really. Even if you want to be. So... that's why I don't think I should be hooking up."

Sam nodded slowly, a rueful smile tucking his lips in.

"Good advice. I'll be sure and tell Sam that," he said after a few seconds. "Between you and me, I don't think he's ovah Brittany. He's kind of in denial, you know? Doesn't want it to end like that. 'Cause he's not that dumb, and he knows that wasn't the Brittany he knows and loves."

"I'm sure her ending things really hurt his feelings," said Kurt gently. "But Sam's been through break-ups before. He'll be okay."

There was a pause.

"Guess that's just Sam's lot in life," said Sam.

"I know how he feels," said Kurt.

"Well. He's an idiot for telling me to do this. I should've known you wouldn't be interested in me," said Sam, his accent forceful. He was staring up at the awning overhead. "I heard you liked guys with accents who are smart and charming – so I thought maybe you'd like me."

"Sam. Um. Sorry. Evan. It's really not that I don't like you..." Kurt began delicately.

Nodding, Sam smiled again, but there was a distinctly wet look to his eyes.

"But we just met yesterday!" Kurt told him. He really didn't want Sam to wind up with his head under a pillow that night. "I hardly know a thing about you, other than you have exceptional taste in men, and are in fact very smart and extremely charming. But we haven't even finished our little 'date,' here."

"So you don't want to... elope?"

"Right now? With you?"

Sam stared at the ground for a few moments. Then, without giving him a straight answer, he suggested, "We don't have to do anything crazy. We could just keep walking for a little while."

"Sure, why not?" said Kurt, giving in to the temptation to keep playing along. Evan was some pretty potent escapism. "And you don't have to eat that pretzel if you don't want to. I won't be offended."

"No, I love pretzels," insisted Sam, coming along as Kurt stepped down the sidewalk. "Sweet _and_ salty? Ah, just the best. How did you know?"

"I had no idea. Pretzels weren't mentioned anywhere on your Facebook."

"Outrageous! What an ovahsight!"

As they meandered further and further from the Lima Bean, passing used bookstores, restaurants, trinket shops, and Between The Sheets, Sam talked, and Kurt mostly just listened. For a few streets, Sam seemed to be having fun spinning yarns about being an eight-year-old chess champion and his genius actually being a great burden, sort of like Spider-Man's powers – but he didn't care for comic book movies, because they were for people who were too lazy to read, and it was too soon to be rebooting the _Superman_ franchise, but that wasn't the point. Kurt just nodded, listening to the musical tone Evan's accent gave Sam's voice and watching him lick cinnamon and sugar off his fingers.

They finished off the pretzels, threw their coffee cups away in front of Urban Outfitters, and decided to keep going.

Eventually Sam-as-Evan told him that his brother had gotten the lowest S.A.T. score ever in the history of William McKinley High School, and there was no way he was ever going to get into any college. Kurt reminded him that NYADA had rejected him and that he'd gone off to New York anyway, gotten an internship instead and worked without pay for months, and in the end, his persistence had paid off and he'd become a January freshman. In Kurt's opinion, all Sam had to do was try, try again, and as long as he was trying, he would be creating his own path, and something would unfold for him, and it was never too late to start college.

"Talented, handsome, and wise to boot!" Sam said.

"Are you from Tennessee? 'Cause you're the only ten I see," teased Kurt.

"Ovahseas, actually," said Sam broadly, "but thank you so much. You're so sweet. I see why Blaine so deeply covets your hand."

"What, this hand? The one smeared with ChapStick?"

Despite the fact that Sam's response to that was to silently turn red and grin sheepishly, Kurt kept having to remind himself that Sam Evans was certainly still in love with Brittany and not remotely interested in wooing him. But Sam seemed somehow motivated, imbued with some kind of strength and confidence by wearing glasses and a sweater, and had said so many flattering things it was hard to remember they weren't really on a date.

Kurt found that even with the off-kilter accent, he liked this conversational, exceptionally attentive side of Sam. He'd always thought of Sam as a nice guy; good-natured, but kinda clueless and naïve. He'd never seen the winsome, engaging side of him before. But of course, he'd never been the target of Sam's affections before, either, even if it was just a wacky, unprecedented byproduct of a bit. He could smell that familiar, warm Old Spice scent in the late afternoon heat and took comfort in the fact that Sam still smelled as delicious and sweaty as ever, no matter what he was wearing and whatever else had changed.

When they paused at a cross-walk, Sam offered his hand, ready to escort Kurt across the street. It wasn't exactly necessary, but Kurt laid his hand in Sam's anyway, blushing, and received a blinding smile in return.

As they crossed the street, it felt like they might walk right out of Lima together, and into some bright future overseas somewhere.

**Author's Note:**

> I got in touch with [Cat](http://pineapplesperalta.tumblr.com/) to see if she'd like to do some kind of collab for Kum Week and we exchanged some thoughts, and to my utter delight I wound up with Evan Evans art in my inbox. Check out [her art](http://pineapplesperalta.tumblr.com/post/57483274596/day-three-s4-kum-this-is-a-collab-with-cj) because it makes me want to gnaw my own arms off with joy!!


End file.
